


Ulterior Motivation

by SonjaJade



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 08:40:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20423084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonjaJade/pseuds/SonjaJade
Summary: Mrs. Havoc knows her boy better than anyone. He may not want to go home to adjust to his paralysis, but she knows it's the only way to get him strong enough to survive with the condition in a big city.





	Ulterior Motivation

**Author's Note:**

> Moms Made Fullmetal prompt, Day 4: Learn/Teach/I'm sorry

Martha Havoc was a petite woman, perfectly groomed silver hair and wrinkles lining her face. She was gentle and quiet, some might even say meek or mousy. However, she was strong enough to push her six foot two inch muscular son in a wheelchair without any help, and her boy knew the strength that lay secretly hidden within the palm of her hand if it smacked him upside the head. Mrs. Havoc was not as weak as her outward appearance made her seem.

And for all his goofing around as a gangly teenager, she knew Jean was just as strong, though his recent demeanor was deceiving. Once she maneuvered him onto the train bound for the sleepy rural town of Chesterton and got him settled, she did what any mother would do:

“Son, everything’s going to be alright. You don’t have to worry about anything, me and Dad will take care of you and make sure to get you to and from the doctor.” She reached over and covered his hand with hers, her thumb rubbing the warm skin there lovingly. “Things will get better, you’ll see.”

Jean closed his eyes and sighed. She knew he wasn’t in any mood to hear that. Who would be? He had lofty goals of being a career officer, marrying and starting a family, and with any luck, retiring early in a place like East City or Pendleton. It was hard to think about being able to do any of those things when you couldn’t feel your legs.

“Why don’t you just shove me off this train and let the vultures eat me,” he mumbled, looking down at the floor as he fished out a cigarette from a pack in his shirt pocket. “Fuckin’ useless now. I’ll be more useless at the store than ever. I’m better off dead.”

Martha narrowed her eyes and cuffed the back of his head so hard he nearly set his eyebrows on fire instead of his cigarette. “Watch your mouth, Jean! There’s more to you than your damn legs and you know it!”

“If you’re worried about paying for my funeral, just use my pension.” He blew smoke at the roof of the car. “Not like I can take a pretty girl dancing or go driving a neat car, now.”

This time she grabbed his hand, curled his pinky finger into a little knot and mashed it as hard as she could. Jean hissed in agony, but didn’t jerk his hand away. She let him go after a few moments of enjoying his grimace. “I’m only going to say this once. You are going to live.” She grabbed his chin and made him look at her. “You are going to learn how to adapt, and you’re going to make adjustments and make the best of a terrible tragedy, and you’re going to live. Understand?”

“How am I gonna come back to any kind of normal life after this?” he asked, rubbing his finger. “How does a cripple live a full life?”

She took a deep breath. “Listen, I know you had big dreams to leave the dust of dinky ole Chesterton behind. I know coming home feels like a failure in itself. But you’ve got wheels, you’re not stuck there. It’s just finding a way to make them turn where you want to go.”

She reminded him that she and his father and two brothers were waiting to help him figure it all out. She told him that once they were sure he was just as able on two hands as he was on two feet, he was free to go anywhere and do anything. 

“I’m sorry you have to come back to the store for a little while. But it’s not permanent- nothing ever is.” He gestured to his legs in protest. “So what? You can’t feel your legs- that doesn’t mean you can’t still feel love. Or joy, or excitement- or hope.”

Mother and son let the quiet moment between them stretch out, the sound of the tracks beneath them muffled but ever present. The rough vibrations rumbled through the car and shook Martha’s bottom to the point her hip began to ache, so she changed her position on the bench beside Jean’s wheelchair. They watched the scenery go by the window and said nothing for a long while.

Jean broke the silence with a chuckle. “I can still feel hungry.”

She smiled at him, humming in agreement. “Good thing I brought your favorite snack in my purse!” She hunted around for a small wax paper wrapped treat and handed it to him. “Sesame snaps, fresh from the Havoc General Store.”

Jean thanked her for the snack and dug in, the sound of him crunching in delight a welcome reaction considering his sour mood for the past two weeks. When he finished, He took his mother’s hand.

“Ma, I appreciate all you and Dad and everybody’s doing for me… but I really hate Chesterton.”

She patted his arm with her other hand and kissed his cheek. “I know. But I also knew you’d never try to get strong enough to take care of yourself unless you came home.” She leaned over and winked. “I can’t wait to see you pushing this chair down the roughest road in town there is, going faster than a loose dog chasing a rabbit! I’ll watch you peel out of sight with pride, son!”

“You devilish old woman,” he said, resting his cheek on top of her head. “You really got me this time.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve had to trick you into doing the right thing.”

“Hopefully it’ll be the last.” He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed.

“Let’s hope.”


End file.
